


Glitter and Crimson

by summerdownturn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alpha!McCree, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courting Rituals, Fluff and Angst, Human Trafficking, Just want to tag properly, Kidnapping, Light on the ABO at first, M/M, Manipulation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!OMC, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Recall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, This is not all doom and gloom I promise, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdownturn/pseuds/summerdownturn
Summary: “I thought we said Jesse was the last stray, Jack.”Jack huffed out a laugh, one that Gabe would say was more of a grunt. “I thought so, too.”___Atlas used to look up to Overwatch, but fate led him to one of Talon's subgroups instead. Six months after Recall, Atlas gets captured and offered a deal. Taking the chance of getting away from his abusive Alpha, he takes it. It just so happens that a cowboy is the only one who knows how he feels.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Atlas, Jesse McCree/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is me dipping my toes into writing OW and OC fic. This is when I knew nothing about the world or timeline or anything, so please be aware that it's not at all close to canon. Also it's ABO, which is kinda light for what I have written. It just pops up here and there but will be more prevalent later on.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Tell me what you think! I've been working on this since the middle of Feb and finally got to 15k and still writing, so it's been a journey. Also thanks to Cas who enthusiastically loves this fic and their reactions convinced me to post it lol

Atlas ran through the halls as the alarms blared, emergency lights tinting the walls red. Someone was attacking the warehouse and Locke had sent him and a few others to take care of it. Not like Atlas had much of a choice, and it wasn’t like Locke to be of any help at all. God forbid that man lift a finger, Atlas huffed as he ran towards Corridor B. 

He slowed when he got near, hearing bullets hitting the walls and the metal shipping crates littering the warehouse. The gunfire stopped suddenly and Atlas paused, listening. Footsteps were fast approaching him, a corner separating them, and he kept his staff at the ready. 

The last person Atlas expected rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks, pulse rifle raised. Jack Morrison shot his gun, but he could easily tell it was not meant to kill, as he only had to deflect one bullet, the others firing around him. Atlas grit his teeth, quietly seething at the man in front of him.

“You’re getting messy, old man,” Atlas chided and Soldier had the nerve to look confused. It made his blood boil, sneering at the man and rushing forward with his staff ready to break bone. The shots were suddenly less friendly and Atlas had to dodge twice, twirling his staff to deflect the fire. He finally got close enough to land a blow, intending to hit the rifle out of Soldier’s hands, but the man pulled back at the last moment and Atlas had to continue forward with a second blow. It landed on his left shoulder, momentarily opening Atlas up to the swinging rifle hitting him across the cheek.

Atlas stumbled back, shaking it off, but Soldier kept forward, grabbing Atlas’s jacket to bring him forward into the pulse rifle aimed at his shoulder. This time he was ready, though, and took the blow, only to fall to his knees to counter. His staff swept the feet out from under the older man, and he fell heavily on the ground. Atlas immediately kicked the gun from his hands, it skidding off down the hall. A quick blow to the head after that had the Soldier disoriented and Atlas stood above him, waiting for his next move.

Soldier didn’t make one, instead, he looked up at the angry boy in front of him. Green eyes looked down with hatred, teeth bared, and Jack could faintly smell the sour scent of a displeased Omega. That same scent, though a little more developed now, took him back twenty years, to an eight year old shivering on the streets of Detroit.

“You,” Soldier grunted out, eyes wide. The boy on top of him recoiled, not expecting Jack to recognize him. “What happened? You were… I thought—,”

“Well, you thought wrong,” the boy yelled. A mist came up behind him, one the boy couldn’t see, and Jack panicked. 

“Gabe, no,” he said, hesitating to do something, but the boy whipped around, sensing a presence, knocking Gabe in the face as he materialized. His mask went flying off and he growled in annoyance, raising his shotguns to end the threat. The end of the staff came up quickly to push him back, though, and an electric shock went through him, stunning him for a moment.

A moment long enough for Atlas to crack him on the head, knocking him out cold.

Jack growled, seeing his mate unconscious and vulnerable. He quickly took the boy down in a hold as he was distracted, knocking the staff away when it fell out of his hands with the impact of hitting the ground. 

“Let me help you,” Jack huffed out, out of breath holding down a struggling full grown man. 

“Haven’t you already done enough?” Atlas growled, trying to knock Soldier off of him. 

“Never,” Soldier replied with a smirk, keeping a hold on the boy even when he received a blow to the side of his head. He could smell his scent better up close. It still was sour, bitter in a way Jack had never smelled an Omega before. Something was different with this one, and catching sight of his neck made it all click into place.

“Shit,” he grunted, moving around to get a hand on the boy’s collar, pulling it down to reveal what he thought. Scars. No, marks. Mating bites. Multiple littering his pale skin and tarnishing his scent. Jack had never felt more regretful and ashamed at himself.

The boy laughed beneath him, manic, and Jack repeated, “Please, let me help you.”

Atlas opened his mouth to respond, when the whole building shook, the sound of an aircraft taking off surging throughout the building. The boy swore below him, eyes wide with fear. He began to struggle wildly after a moment of shock, and Jack tried his best to keep him still. An elbow to the ribs said otherwise, though, and the kid broke free, grabbing his staff and running to where Jack came from.

Gabe stirred beside him and Jack made sure he was okay before chasing after Atlas. Jack found him outside, looking up confused at the aircraft taking off without him. He saw Jesse out of the corner of his eye, revolver drawn, and he held out his hand to stop him.

“Kid,” Jack started, walking off to the side of the boy, but suddenly, Jesse was rushing to them with a shout of “Sniper!” and knocked Atlas down just as he screamed out in pain. Jesse quickly turned before the sniper could take another shot, Peacekeeper firing off one bullet to the rooftop of a nearby building before nodding towards Jack.

Jack kneeled down next to Atlas, taking in the damage. Luckily, the bullet had missed his head and heart, but his left shoulder had a bullet wound going clean through. It was bleeding heavily, Atlas groaning beneath him.

“Jesse, tell Tracer the extraction point has changed. Have her meet us here. Get Mercy on call, too. My med pack can only do so much.” Jesse stared at him hard, but Jack stared right back until Jesse nodded, getting up and reaching for his comm.

Jesse nodded towards Gabe who had come up behind them silently as he told Tracer the coordinates. Gabe grunted his hello, showing his displeasure for the injured Omega Jack was helping. Jack shot him a look that had Gabe looking away, but he crossed his arms and turned back to debrief Jack from their mission.

“The Shimadas cleared the remainder of the warehouse. Said the rest took off in a craft headed west. Sombra luckily got what we needed before they wiped the system.” Jack nodded, still compressing the wound on Atlas’s shoulder. Jesse and Gabe gave each other a glance. “I thought we said Jesse was the last stray, Jack.” McCree held up his middle finger, before looking towards the sky at the Overwatch aircraft preparing for landing.

Jack huffed out a laugh, one that Gabe would say was more of a grunt. “I thought so, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas meets a cowboy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not southern, so sorry if McCree's accent is a bit all over the place. 
> 
> TW:  
> Mentions of Omega Trafficking   
> Panic Attacks

Atlas didn’t remember passing out. He didn’t remember how he got to a medical bay, nor who handcuffed him to the bed. His shoulder was stiff, and it hurt like hell, but the fuzziness in his head and the IV in his hand made him think they gave him something for that already. 

He groaned in pain and annoyance, hand rattling the chain of the handcuffs. He could deal with that later. Right now he needed to figure out where the fuck he was.

Blinking his eyes wider, he looked around. Sterile white along with calming blues and pops of orange colored the room. A blonde woman stood in the far corner with a man sitting on a bed in front of her. The man was looking at him, seeming familiar somehow. He nodded towards his direction, a tilt of the head to lead the woman to look over. She must have been the medic, due to her white coat and concerned expression. 

She didn’t come over immediately, smiling softly at him before turning back to the man. He turned to get a better look, but pain in his side and shoulder stopped him short. He stifled a yelp, letting it out into a low moan as he settled back down. Okay, the pain meds were wearing off fast. Finally he looked down to his shoulder to see it wrapped up in a heavy bandage. His side was covered by a blue blanket, but he could tell it was just bruised as he was taking inventory on all of his scrapes and wounds.

Finally, the woman came over to his bedside, the man walking out of the infirmary with a wave of a metal hand. She quickly took his vitals before looking at his chart and checking over the IV and equipment he was hooked up to. He said nothing, waiting for her to explain. But she just smiled and turned away, going about her business in the room. Atlas sighed, not hiding his annoyance.

He dozed off for a minute, because soon the infirmary doors were sliding open again and in walked Jack fucking Morrison. Again.  _ Great _ , he thought, _ Overwatch has me now. _

Atlas quietly seethed as Soldier whispered something to the woman. They had a hushed conversation by the door, far enough so he couldn’t hear. Then Soldier nodded and walked towards his bed, the woman continuing her business. 

He stood awkwardly at the side of his bed, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. Atlas understood, though, because he was feeling the same.

“I guess you already know who I am, where you are, and why you’re here. Am I assuming correctly?” Soldier asked, blue eyes boring into his fiery green ones.

“No,” Atlas hated that his voice cracked on the word from lack of use, but he hid his wince and continued, “I don’t know why I’m here. I did nothing wrong.”

Jack huffed, “Aside from trying to kill me? How about being a part of a secret weapons dealing organization running directly under Talon? Does that sound familiar?”

“You forgot the Omega trafficking and ring fighting,” Atlas added, voice deadpanned.

“The… trafficking?” Soldier said slowly, trying to understand the implications the boy meant. They hadn’t heard of any such thing being associated with Spark or Talon. Sure, weapons dealing and murder weren’t above either organziation, but he never thought to look into anything else. “You’re trying to save your ass,” Soldier said, disbelieving, trying to catch Atlas in a bluff. But the boy looked away and shrugged his good shoulder.

“Maybe. I could tell you a lot more, if you promise to let me go. I thought about seeing the countryside, maybe going on a road trip,” Atlas said in all seriousness, but Jack could tell the boy was scared.

“Letting a criminal out of Overwatch custody won’t look good on our records, unfortunately. I do, however, have a proposition for you.” Jack then pulled over a chair, sitting down to look at Atlas at eye level.

This time, Atlas didn’t hide the fear from his face, and it made Jack’s heart hurt. What has this kid been through, he wondered.

“You give us the information we need to know about Spark, and you won’t get sentenced. You’ll join Overwatch, help us and help the people who need it. Or you tell us shit and I’ll throw you in prison for twenty years.” Jack crossed his fingers, waiting for an answer.

Atlas was dumbfounded. “That’s not entirely fair, is it?”

“No, but I have a case against you that will hold up, and I have a feeling Overwatch would be good for you. I have a sense that you don’t give a shit about Spark, so what have you got to lose?” Jack gestured his hands apart as he explained and Atlas grit his teeth.

“Fuck you. You’re no better than Spark or Talon,” Atlas spat, eyes growing glossy. Jack sighed.

“You have a choice. It’s a shitty one, but I’m trying to give you an out. I have a feeling you don’t deserve jail time. Don’t prove me wrong.” Jack stood up from his chair, and Atlas panicked. “Think about it.” Jack turned to leave, walking a couple paces before Atlas stopped him.

“Wait.” Jack turned around, expectant. “Fine. I’ll… join Overwatch.” Atlas groaned, grimacing at the words leaving his mouth. 

Jack smiled, holding back a shit eating grin. “Okay then. Training starts in a week.” He turned around again, Atlas sticking out his tongue at his new Commander as he walked out the door. The woman caught sight of it and laughed, before coming over with a vial and a needle.

“I can tell you’re in pain, let me help.” Atlas looked at her warily. “Just a little, to take the edge off.” She explained, drawing the liquid and dispensing it into his IV. A cold rush flowed through his veins and Atlas grew drowsy. The woman walked away once more, smiling as Atlas drawled out a thank you.

The next couple of days were spent in a blur of pain medication and nightmares. It was a vicious cycle of meds making him sleep, dreams plaguing him, and waking up in a near panic attack, only for Angela, the nice blonde lady, to give him more medication.

On the third day, he had enough. “No,” he croaked when he saw Angela by his bedside, getting ready to give him more.

“Pardon?” She asked, putting down the vial and syringe.

“No more. Not that bad anymore.” Atlas spoke louder so she could hear him. Shifting to sit up more, he groaned, and hands were immediately hovering next to him. “‘m fine.” He waved her off, glancing up at her concerned eyes, but looked away quickly as he said softly, “Please.”

They were silent for a moment before Angela sighed. “Alright. Let me examine you, though. Since you’re feeling… better.”

Atlas nodded, allowing her at least that. She explained what she was doing as she was doing it, sometimes warning him beforehand if she were going to touch an injury or sensitive area. Sitting him up, she finally looked at his shoulder. Peeling back the bandaged revealed a nasty wound, still red and bruised from the bullet going through the flesh. Angela said it was doing better, cleaned it, and bandaged it back up.

“Bullet wounds are tricky. Especially a high caliber wound such as yours. It should take a few more days before you can move it with restrictions. That salve I used on it triples the healing rate.” She added as she started to look at his ribs. They were a pretty shade of purple and green all along his right side from where he hit the ground. She applied more medicine and left him alone for the time being, eyeing his scars as she left.

He was glad she didn’t say anything, but he knew that soon enough, they would either figure it out or bring it up.

The man with the metal arm came back later that day, and Atlas was glad, because he was bored out of his fucking mind. He watched the man from the corner of his eye as he moved around, before sitting down on one of the beds again.

Atlas could see him more clearly with less pain meds in his system, and he was… intrigued, to say the least. The man wore a cowboy hat, along with boots with spurs and the rest of the whole cowboy get-up, including a revolver holstered to his waist. He heard bits and pieces of his and Angela’s conversation, sounding like he was in for a check up after a mission. 

He seemed familiar, and he nodded to Angela and stood up once they were done, but instead of leaving, he walked towards Atlas’s bed. Atlas didn’t know where to look. There was so much of this guy and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or be proud. He nodded in greeting again, Atlas nodding back, looking towards Angela to save him.

“Howdy, name’s McCree.” Oh Jesus help him. His southern drawl was real and heavy, like this guy just stepped out of a Western. “You can call me Jesse, if ya like.” Atlas nodded. “I reckon we still don’t know your name?” Jesse asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down so there was no escaping the conversation.

Atlas paused, debating whether or not to tell the cowboy his name. He told Angela already, and was quite fond of her — though he wouldn’t admit it — but this was someone straight out asking for his name. Eventually, the awkward silence caused him to clear his throat and say, “Atlas.”

“Nice to meet ya, Atlas.” Jesse smiled, and Atlas noticed one of his hands twitching, his other reaching for a box in his shirt pocket. Like some kind of spider-sense, Angela shouted across the room, “No smoking, Jesse! I’ll confiscate those if I see them in here again.” Jesse rolled his eyes, but winced and continued to fidget.

“I figured,” Atlas stopped him with a look that made him backtrack his bullshit, “ _ We _ figured it would be easier to adjust to Overwatch through me. Ya ever heard of Deadlock?” He nodded, Deadlock was one of Spark’s top competitors, operating out of New Mexico, led currently by Ashe. “I was… a part of it, ‘til Gabe caught me. Offered me the same deal.”

“So you know how much this sucks then?” Atlas spat at him, Jesse taking his attitude in stride.

“Basically, yeah.” Jesse laughed. “It doesn’t get much easier, kid. At least they will treat you right here.” Atlas gritted his teeth at Jesse’s assumption. He was right, but Atlas didn’t want him to know that. “Listen,” Jesse started, suddenly being real and serious. “Just give it a shot. Prison isn’t going anywhere, you can always tap out.”

Atlas stared back at the man, feeling all too tired, but hoping it didn’t show on his face. Eventually, Jesse smiled again, a long smirk that Atlas wondered would be stunning with a cigarette between, and leaned back in his chair.

“Betcha real bored, you’ve been here, what, three days? Not much to do in the med bay.” He could tell Jesse was getting at something, but when he pulled out a holopad from his back pocket and held it out to him, Atlas was surprised. “It has restrictions put on it, no social media or other contact with the outside world. But it has shows you can watch.” Atlas took the holopad with his good arm, snatching it away like McCree would take it back. Jesse laughed at his eagerness. “It’s all yours. Restrictions go away once you’re officially part of the team.” 

Jesse shifted in his seat as Atlas looked at the holopad, seeing it in fact only had entertainment on it. The cowboy started to stand, and Atlas panicked, not wanting him to leave just yet. Jesse glanced at the heart monitor as his heart rate picked up, and he silently cursed.

“Wait.” Atlas groaned and palmed his face. “Do you like anime?” He kept his face hidden in embarrassment so he wasn’t able to see Jesse’s smirk.

“Don’t mind it, every now and then,” he answered truthfully, and Atlas peeked out in between his fingers.

“Stay then?” Jesse studied what he could see of Atlas’s face, seeing the blush poke out from behind his hand and the way his eyes shifted to the right, away from Jesse. He would guess Atlas didn’t have much practice asking for things he wanted, so Jesse nodded when he caught Atlas’s eyes and sat back down in the chair. Atlas put on some old anime, one Jesse could honestly say he had never seen before, and they watched it in silence until Jesse mentioned it was the first time he’d ever seen an anime dubbed before.

They spent the first episode talking about the pros and cons of subs versus dubs, and then the second episode they compared Jesse to the main character.

“Listen, you both have no left arm, carry a revolver, and have ridiculous outfits,” Atlas said, wildly gesturing to the screen. “You’re practically the same person!”

“No left arm?” Jesse drawled, taking the holopad and looking at the screen, currently paused on the main character.

“Er, spoilers, I guess.” Atlas shrugged, taking it back to resume the episode. Jesse gave him a half-hearted glare, mumbling under his breath and shifting to cross his arms, “It’s not ridiculous…”

They watched the next two episodes, but at the end of the fourth when Atlas didn’t switch to the next, Jesse looked over to see Atlas sleeping peacefully. Silently sneaking the holopad out of Atlas’s hold, he placed it on the bedside table and got up to stretch. Seeing Angela at her desk, he walked over. 

“So, what do you think of the kid?” Jesse asked, looking over his shoulder to check that Atlas was still asleep and that his heart rate was at a normal pace.

Angela looked over at the sleeping boy. “He’s young. Too young. He’s holding something back, but with time, I think it will show.” She gave Jesse a knowing look before going back to her paperwork, adding, “He’ll be a part of the team, soon enough.” 

Jesse nodded, fingers twitching again. Angela eyed him, but said nothing. She had already said too many times how she would give him whatever he needed to quit smoking, but Jesse was stubborn and denied all her help. He glanced at her guiltily before pointing to the door leading to the courtyard.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be back.”

Smoking had always helped McCree think. It was cathartic, the motion of it, the soothing nicotine blurring the edges on his anxiety. Here, he could stay grounded in the present and relax enough to think about things.

Jack had warned him that Atlas would be trouble, and Jesse believed it. But he also saw himself in the kid, and that was worth something. There was a fight there, and also pain, too much pain for a kid that young, but with the Omnic Crisis it was all too common to find.

Jesse stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray Jack had bitched about, even though he had bought it so him and Gabe would stop leaving cigarette butts everywhere. It was glass, and had been used enough that the pride flag on the bottom had mostly scratched off. Leave it to Jack Morrison to buy an ashtray for his subordinates at Pride.

Returning to the med bay, Jesse saw Angela by Atlas’s bedside, nearly hovering over him. From the beeping of the heart monitor, Jesse knew something was wrong.

“Jesse! I need your help. Hold him down, please.” Jesse ran over, seeing Atlas tossing and turning in his bed, his face pinched in pain, then fear, then anger. His scent was bitter and hung in the air around him, breathing shallow and his whole body was shaking, but yet his eyes remained closed.

“Nightmare?” Jesse guessed, putting his hands on Atlas’s good shoulder and hip, trying to still his movements.

“I’m just worried what he will do when he wakes up.” Angela said, eyes still focused on the shaking boy in front of her. She began talking in soothing tones, stroking his forehead that had begun to sweat. He had begun to whimper as he thrashed, though under McCree’s touch, he growled, baring his teeth. His eyes snapped open and his fingernails sunk into Jesse’s arm. Angela backed away, trying to pull Jesse with her, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Atlas, hey, it’s me, remember? Jesse.” Atlas looked at him with fury and hurt in his eyes, but also with some recognition. “Yeah, Jesse. Angela’s here, too. We’re just trying to help.” McCree’s forearm was bleeding, little rivers dripping onto the blanket below. Atlas began to shake even harder, panic washing over him, muttering something under his breath that Jesse couldn’t hear.

“What’s that, darlin’?” He leaned in to hear better, but soon he didn’t have to, because Atlas’s voice rose, and rose, and rose, until he was yelling.

“Off… off, off, off, off. Get off, off, please, off! Get off of me! Get off! OFF!”

Jesse quickly took his hands off of Atlas, jumping back at the sudden tone in his voice, the pure panic and desperation of it. He swallowed, hands hovering over him as Atlas curled in on himself, his voice low again, still muttering. “Off, off, off… get off, off.”

His hands traveled over his torso, trying to shrug off anything touching him. The blanket that was covering him fell as he did so, and McCree clenched his jaw and fists at what he saw. Hands moving over bandages, wincing in pain. Hands moving over old and new scars in the shape of teeth, mating bites, most old but some new. Not fresh, but recent, having healed over already but not losing their pink around the edges.

Jesse could feel Angela looking between them. He made small shushing noises, taking softly to try to calm Atlas down without touching him. Eventually, Atlas’s hands stilled, resting against his chest as he curled up on his side. The beeping of the heart monitor slowed, returning to a normal pace. McCree relaxed, and he heard Angela take in a deep breath beside him.

Once Jesse was sure he was back to sleep, he turned to Angela.

“The fuck was that?”

“Jesse, you of all people should know what a panic attack looks like,” Angela responded, glancing at Jesse knowing.

“Tch,” Jesse scoffed, crossing his arms and then gesturing to Atlas, “From a nightmare, though?”

Angela stood up straight, finally looking at Jesse square in the eye. “I have a feeling it was more like a PTSD flashback than a nightmare.” Jesse clenched his jaw, but took a minute to breathe, sighing out his frustrations. Too young, as Angela said.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment if you want to read more. I'll be posting other McCree fic without the OC as well, so keep a lookout for that. Thanks!


End file.
